


What are the rules in a game of wolves?

by salvatorestjohn



Category: Legacies (TV 2018), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Background Isaac Lahey, Background Lydia Martin, Beacon Hills Lacrosse Team, Crossover, Drama, Gen, Hurt Liam Dunbar, Lacrosse, Protective Jackson Whittemore, Protective Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Salvatore Boarding School for the Young & Gifted (Vampire Diaries), Team Dynamics, Werewolf Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 11:43:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18343004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvatorestjohn/pseuds/salvatorestjohn
Summary: The whistle blows and Salvatore's number thirty-one is already scooping up the ball. He knocks into Scott's shoulder and a sharp pain shoots right up through it, the force of it half-turning him around. Wincing, he clenches his jaw but quickly brushes it off. He catches the player's eyes when he glances back at him.Scott would like to say he's imagining it, but there's no mistaking the shine in his eyes. They glow bright gold as if perfectly on cue, and Scott can sense the wave of regret already coming from him. That loss of control settling in under the light of the full moon.If Scott wasn't positive before, he is now. They're not the only werewolves on the field tonight.





	What are the rules in a game of wolves?

The second that Scott steps onto the field with only ten minutes until the game starts, he can tell something isn't right. It's hard to pinpoint; a scent, maybe. He pauses by the benches, doing a quick sweep of the field, but nothing out of the ordinary catches his eyes.

The other team, here for the big game of the season in their bright yellow jerseys, are on the other side of the field, getting ready. His own teammates are doing the same, grabbing a drink of water, adjusting their sticks or other parts of their equipment. Not one person is missing, and there are no arguments. As far as he can see, everything's fine. 

Brushing it off as just an effect of the full moon, he moves over to one of the benches. He takes a seat beside Kira and Liam, catching them mid-conversation while Stiles hovers next to them.

His expression turns to one of relief and he waves a hand at the two of them. "Good. You can convince him. Liam here thinks that we should call off the whole game just because it's a full moon, which, is ridiculous."

"You're aware that I still need to use a _mantra_ to control myself, right?" Liam asks, staring up at him. "Jackson doesn't even care about controlling it, Isaac gets spooked really easily, and Corey keeps disappearing in the middle of someone talking to him. Tell me that doesn't sound like a good enough reason to call it off."

"No, it doesn't," Stiles says, "because this is the championship game. Alright? We haven't won one of these in..." he throws his hands up, "you know what, I don't even remember, and that's proof enough in itself that we need this win tonight."

Liam opens his mouth like he's going to argue, but Scott doesn't give him the chance. 

"He's right, Liam," he says to him, his head tilting as Liam stares at him in disbelief. "We can't just stop everything out of fear. You're doing really well with controlling yourself now. We've had games on full moons before, remember? We can do this."

Liam sighs and looks away. His bottom lips catches between his teeth and Scott's eyebrows draw together, watching the frown take over his features.

"I know that, but..." Liam shakes his head, his eyes narrowing. "Something's different. It's like when played Devonford; I could feel something was off, but I couldn't figure it out. It's the same now but stronger."

Scott processes his words. The chances of them both sensing that something doesn't quite feel right on the full moon is likely. It's probably just throwing them off, confusing them. A part of him doesn't think that's the case, but until he can figure out what else it could be, it's just going to have to take the blame. 

"It's probably just the full moon," Kira agrees, voicing it for him. She gives a half-shrug. "It's messing with your head."

"Yes, exactly, that," Stiles says, pointing at Kira as he nods quickly. "So, you need a distraction. And what better distraction than the biggest game of the season, am I right? Okay, yeah? Good, so we're playing, glad we're on the same page."

Liam once again looks as if he's going to protest, but he doesn't bother. He just sighs, his shoulder slumping. If Scott didn't know any better, just by the look on his face, he would assume they've already lost the game.

It's like Liam can sense some sort of defeat coming that the rest of them are completely unaware of. The same one that Scott can sense in the air, already at home in the pit in his stomach. 

As Stiles quickly changes the subject and drags Kira into the conversation about something class-related, Scott glances around them again. Isaac's just along from them, he notes as he turns slightly on the bench, talking with Jackson and Danny. The three of them look pretty much at ease; the usual kind before a game, anyway. 

Turning around a little more, he catches sight of Corey further up in the stands. Unsurprisingly, he's with Mason and Sydney, both of whom seem to be trying to assure him of something.

Scott's eyebrows furrow. He does another sweep of the stands but comes up empty again. 

Trying once again to brush off the feeling of unease, he turns back around. His eyes drift across the field. For just a few seconds, he tunes out of what Kira and Stiles are saying, and into the conversation going on between the Salvatore Boarding School's captain and two of his teammates.

Eavesdropping, especially with heightened hearing, isn't something he enjoys doing, but it's unintentional. The full moon has a fun habit of temporarily taking control. At least for the first five seconds.

Besides, there's something in the back of his mind telling him it might help ease his doubts. 

 _"—remember the plan, alright?"_ one of the girls— number thirteen, he reads from the back of her jersey — says to her other two teammates, her voice firm. _"We can't afford another slip-up. Just act natural, and play fair. We don't need another town asking questions about us. One is already hard enough to handle."_

The other girl nods, obviously taking her warning seriously with an almost grim look on her face. The guy, however, who Scott thinks is the captain, shoots them both a look like they've lost their minds. 

 _"So, basically, the plan is to act like we can't play?"_ he questions, his eyes narrowing. _"We're at the championships, and now you want us to play it safe again? Because, by the sounds of it, the only way we can 'play fair' is to let them win. I don't know about you, but that plan sucks. I'd rather—"_

 _"I don't care what you would rather do,"_  the first girl cuts him off, waving a hand at herself. _"You might call yourself the captain, but my dad runs the school, alright? So, you listen to me. We can win without... having to resort to other techniques. We've done it before. I don't know about you," s_ he emphasizes as she quotes his words back to him, _"but I'd rather leave this game with my entire body intact. You play fair, or you're on the bench. Captain or not. Got it?"_

She doesn't give him much room to argue. She just shoots him and the other girl one more look, as if daring them to challenge her, then walks away. The boy sighs, throwing his hands up while the other girl just sighs and moves away in the same direction.

Scott bites his lip, replaying it in his head as he goes to tune back out, if he can. The full moon doesn't always play along with what he wants. He's positive that he heard all of that right. For the most part, it sounded... normal. There's something about the way they were saying it all though that's pulling at his senses. The almost coded language, secretive whispers. 

Rolling his eyes at himself for overthinking the whole thing, he goes to turn back to his friends. He stops himself short, his eyes following the guy as he moves just a little away from where he had originally been, bringing two of the other guys with them. He leans in close to them, his voice quieter.

" _I don't care what she says,_ _we're not losing this game just because we have an 'unfair advantage,'"_ he says, shaking his head at the words like even saying them is ridiculous _. "So, new plan. Throw out this whole 'play fair' thing. Let's win this our way. You two in?_ "

The one with the number twenty-six on the back of his jersey nods without hesitation, a smirk crossing his face. 

" _Absolutely,"_ he says. _"It's about time."_

The other doesn't look so sure. 

 _"I don't think we should,"_ he says, his voice quieter than the other two. _"Those rules are there to protect us. And them! I don't think we should risk it, especially not tonight. Who knows what might happen?"_

Scott isn't sure but he almost thinks that his eyes dart to the sky for just a second. He looks up; the full moon is hanging above them in the dark sky, shining down on the field. His heart jumps a beat and his stomach gives an involuntary twist, almost urgent. 

He quickly focuses his attention back on them, just in time to hear the captain speak again. 

 _"We win, that's what."_ He sighs. _"Look, either you're in or you're not. But if you're not, don't get in my way, alright? I'm fed up with barely winning these things. It's about time we show people that we're not just some stuck-up, preppy idiots who get through matches by the skin of our teeth. I plan on winning tonight."_

The conversation gets dropped at that, the captain waiting as if for someone to challenge him. Scott can't help but think that there must be a lot of tension on the team between him and the girl with the number thirteen jersey with how similar they seem to be. At least in this area.

The guy who tried to argue grabs hold of the other's arm as soon as the captain walks away. It's obvious he tries to talk to him, probably convince him, but he doesn't get more than his name — Jed — out through his teeth before the guy is shaking him off and walking away as well. 

There's a pause. Barely a beat as he just stands there, and Scott imagines the frustration he can smell in the air is coming from him. Then he turns, his eyes darting around.

Scott's stomach swoops, the air hitching in his throat. The guy blinks and the flicker of gold in his eyes is gone. 

A gentle but obvious jab to his ribs follows right away and Scott shifts his attention to him.

"Is it just me or did his eyes just...?" Liam doesn't finish, but he doesn't need to, the worry clear in his voice. 

Scott sucks in a breath, and says, "Yeah. Yeah, they did."

"Does that mean that he's..." Liam pauses, glancing around them, obviously wary, "...you know. Like us?"

Scott shakes his head slowly, his eyes moving back across the field, singling the guy out right away. He's now sitting on the bench, taking a drink of water while the girl next to him talks away, almost animatedly. He tries to focus on his scent, searching for that tell-tale signal. 

"I don't know," he answers truthfully after a few seconds, his senses all over the place and unable to hone in one single part of his scent.

"Is this a good enough reason to call the game off yet?"

Scott tears his eyes away and makes the decision not to look back over, brushing it off. It feels an awful lot like he's been doing that a lot tonight. Another side-effect of the full moon, he supposes. 

Shaking his head again, he looks at Liam, and says, "No, we're not calling it off. We just... we need to be careful, that's all. If he really is... like us, then there's a good chance he's struggling with the full moon, too. We'll keep an eye on him. Just in case."

Liam nods in understanding, taking a deep breath in, his shoulders tense.

Scott's already going through all of the possible outcomes for what could happen tonight. They could win. Something could go horribly wrong, and in the worst case scenario, someone gets hurt. Or even worse.

Maybe Liam has a point about calling the whole thing off. If they—

A whistle blows from right next to him and he ducks his head, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief second.

"Let's go, let's go!" Coach shouts, waving a hand toward the field. "We have a championship to win, and you're not gonna do it by sitting on this bench all night!"

The rest of the team quickly burst into action, grabbing their sticks and heading onto the field. Scott stands, but pauses, reaching out and grabbing Liam to stop him as well. 

"You're gonna be okay out there, right?" he asks gently, raising his eyebrows. "I know it's a lot. Just don't focus on the rest of it. Okay? Remember the mantra."

Liam swallows, then nods, looking up at him. There's a determination in his eyes that assures Scott. 

"I can do this," he says, a sense of confidence in his voice.

Scott nods back, then they're both heading out on the field with the rest of the team and Coach shouting for them not to let him down. They all move to their positions, the adrenaline already building up in the air, filling his head.

He keeps his eyes on the guy from before — number thirty-one, he reminds himself to make it easier — as their team readies themselves in front of them.

Seconds before the game starts, Scott shifts his attention to the captain, directly in front of him, stick at the ready. 

Their eyes meet, and he smirks at him. Scott's eyebrows furrow, his senses going crazy out of nowhere. They seem to try and hone in on something but can't quite figure out what. It's what he would imagine it would feel like if they could short-circuit.

The whistle blows again. Scott quickly sets aside any thoughts he has on whatever the hell is going on tonight. Right now, getting through this game without any slip-ups or mishaps is the goal. Keeping an eye on an extra person or two shouldn't be so hard.

The game starts. Scott tries to get the ball but the other team's faster, scooping it up and moving out of his way. He turns around, his eyes darting around the field as he moves as fast as a human would.

The first minute or so is a blur. Liam gets the ball once it's passed to another member of their team, and it goes flying right into the net without even giving the goalie a second to try and stop the shot. 

It's like that for the next few minutes. Scott manages to get the ball the second time around and pass it to Kira, who passes it to Nolan. It gets stolen by number nineteen from the other team, and they easily make their shot with just two more passes.

The third time, the other team grabs it first again. Scott's stealing it away in seconds.

He catches a flicker of something on the guy's face but doesn't stick around to question it. He's already moving with it in his net, his eyes darting all around the field. The other team's colour being yellow definitely makes it a lot easier to seek out his own teammates. 

Isaac's the first he notices is open and takes the shot without hesitation. The ball flies through the air and his stick goes up, catching it easily. Scott moves further down the field, his eyes moving all over but sticking on Isaac, watching him run further afield. 

The ball gets passed to Liam's net, who just barely dodges one of the opposing team, slipping to his left. There's a pause, then he's passing it to Corey, the closest teammate and the one with the least people surrounding him. 

Scott's heart jumps a beat or two, watching as he hesitates once he has the ball, turning around only to find himself faced with at least three yellow-clad threats.

Then Stiles is nodding, his stick ready and open. Corey throws the ball, and for a split second, Scott can only watch it as it goes through the air, a member of the Salvatore School jumping to intercept. 

Something happens and they're back on the ground as if they never even left it. Jackson knocks right into them and they go flying to the ground with a grunt. Scott's eyebrows furrow, but Stiles has the ball and then it's being flung into the goal.

Their whole team bursts into a cheer as the glowing numbers on the scoreboard looming over them changes, putting them in the lead once more. Scott exhales, his shoulders dropping, a hint of relief sinking in. 

It's quickly overshadowed by the burning that starts up underneath his skin. His eyes move away from his own teammates, searching. They meet with Salvatore's captain, already staring right at him. Even from underneath his helmet, Scott can spot the glare in his eyes. He clenches his jaw, twisting his stick between his hands.

Scott's eyes narrow as a wave hits him. It's cold, freezing and seeping through his skin, right into his senses. His head tilts, that familiar touch of the supernatural brushing over his skin. The captain just holds his stare for another second or two, his expression giving nothing away.

The whistle blows again and everyone moves to get back in their positions. Jackson catches him before they get into their own, a hand grabbing at his jersey to hold him in place. Scott's guessing that confused and mildly irritated look on his face can't be good.

"Something's going on," he says, not even bothering to state it as a question.

"I know," Scott says, "I just... don't know what."

Jackson throws a glance at the other team, his eyes narrowed. Scott knows that look of suspicion well; he's had at directed at him more than once, that's for sure. 

"When I knocked that kid over..." He pauses, clenching his jaw. Then he shifts his eyes back to Scott, lowering his voice.  "It nearly took my shoulder out. It was like I just tried to run full-force into a steel wall. Now, I could be wrong, but that usually only happens with other werewolves."

Scott looks over at them as well, processing. He shakes his head, slowly. There are too many coincidences for them to be just that. Nothing's adding up tonight, and yet, it's all making total sense.

Just another one of Beacon Hills' charms; it's lack of sense tends to be expected at this point, making it easier to expect the unexpected. Especially that of a supernatural nature.

"Keep an eye out, okay?" he says, leaning in to stay quiet. "Something isn't right, and it can't just be the full moon. And—" he's the one with a hand on Jackson's jersey now, looking him in the eyes, "—be careful. I don't know what's going on, but I don't like it either. Don't do anything that's going to get you, or anyone else, hurt."

Jackson rolls his eyes and pulls Scott's hand off of him.

"Relax, McCall," he says. "I know how this works. But if one of those preppy little assholes tries anything, it won't be my fault if we win by default because they're a player short."

He doesn't wait around for Scott to insist any more, finally moving into his position.

Scott groans quietly, and a part of him can't help but wish he had just agreed with Liam as he hurries to do the same before Coach starts shouting again. Championship game or not, Scott would rather not watch this take a turn for the worst.

The whistle blows and Salvatore's number thirty-one is already scooping up the ball. He knocks into Scott's shoulder and a sharp pain shoots right up through it, the force of it half-turning him around. Wincing, he clenches his jaw but quickly brushes it off. He catches the player's eyes when he glances back at him.

Scott would like to say he's imagining it, but there's no mistaking the shine in his eyes. They glow bright gold as if perfectly on cue, and Scott can sense the wave of regret already coming from him. That loss of control settling in under the light of the full moon. 

If Scott wasn't positive before, he is now. They're not the only werewolves on the field tonight. 

The confirmation has him hurrying after the player, a bubble of panic and worry mixing together inside of him. He's practically a blur on the field though, moving faster than looks humanly possible. Which is exactly the problem. 

Scott manages to get in front of him, right after he's flung the ball and it's missed its target. Everyone else races for it, but Scott stops him from moving to join them, his eyes scanning over his face. The gold is still there, flickering back and forth. 

"You need to stop," he says, keeping his voice quiet but urgent as the guy looks at him in panic and confusion. "Someone else is gonna see you. Focus. You have to control it."

He just stares at him with wide eyes, obviously catching on that he knows. Then his eyebrows furrow at that same realization, the confusion taking priority over the initial panic, though it remains underneath. 

"How..."

He shakes his head, his tongue darting across his lips. His eyes dart away as someone gets the ball and everyone's moving again. He looks back at Scott, eyeing him.

"How do you know what I am?" he asks warily.

Someone on his own team shouts for whoever has the ball to throw it to them. Scott glances over at them, that tug of urgency only growing. 

"Because I'm one, too," he quickly explains. He feels it when his own eyes bleed red for all of one second before he forces them back. "But you can't let anyone else see you, you have to control it."

The guy clenches his jaw, and his mouth opens like he's going to say something. At that exact moment, there's a shout of confusion, outrage. They both look over at their teams just in time. 

One of Salvatore's players now has the ball, but they're not running with it. Instead of trying to dodge the defences, he jumps. Except he goes too high to be possible, almost as if he's flying over them. He does an obviously exaggerated roll mid-air before coming back down on their other side and launching the ball clear into the goal.

Scott's eyes widen as they turn around and he recognizes them as the captain.

He smirks as his own team cheers and congratulates him while at least half of Scott's stand confused and questioning what the hell just happened. The other half, of course, are shooting knowing and worried looks at each other, including to Scott. 

He goes to turn back to the guy he had been talking to but finds no one there. Looking back out across the field, he catches sight of him now practically on the other side, joining his teammates in the momentary celebration of now being tied with Beacon Hills. 

The whistle goes, signalling the first quarter-break of the game. Scott makes his way back to the benches but continues looking over in their direction. He's aware of a good majority of the team quickly joining him.

"Okay, there's no way that that guy isn't supernatural," Stiles says right away, pointing in his general direction as they watch him grin and act as if nothing happened. "That shot was pretty much impossible. And when I say impossible, I mean for a human who doesn't have supernatural abilities. So, what exactly are we dealing with here?"

"Another werewolf?" Kira supplies uncertainly, her eyebrows drawing together in obvious worry as her eyes shift between them.

"No," Isaac says as they stop, a few of them taking a seat. "I don't think he's one of us."

"What do you mean not one of you?" Stiles asks, his hands flying into the air, eyes narrowing incredulously. "The guy literally flew about half a mile across the field in the blink of an eye and even managed to do a somersault in the process. And — don't get me started on Nolan's busted shoulder after he rammed into the poor kid."

Nolan raises his hand slightly, an almost fearful, cautious look on his face as he hurries to say, "actually, it's not that bad. Just bruised, I th—"

"You fell on your ass the second he hit you," Stiles cuts him off, and eyes the way he's holding said shoulder pointedly. "I'll be surprised if he hasn't dislocated it. Which, once again leads me back to my initial question of how the hell you could possibly think he isn't supernatural?"

"No, Isaac's right."

Scott tears his eyes away from the Salvatore's to turn back to the team.

"I'm not saying he's isn't supernatural," he quickly explains when Stiles' exasperation only seems to grow, now directed at him. "I'm getting something off of him, but it's not the same as with one of us. He's something else. He isn't the only one either."

Stiles sputters at that, his eyebrows shooting up. "Are you trying to tell me that there's more than one supernatural... whatever, on their team?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," Liam points out. 

No one can really argue with that; it hasn't been that long since their last match against Devonford. Brett being a werewolf was definitely a surprise. Still, Scott can't help think but think there's something more going on here.

Maybe it's just because he still can't shake that unease, or maybe it's just him not wanting to leave anything to chance. They can't afford to miss anything tonight. There's too much at stake if something goes wrong.

"Who cares what the hell they are?" Jackson now jumps in, eyeing them all like they're the ones with their priorities out of check as he continues, asking, "How do we beat them? Because, if you haven't noticed, they're using whatever powers they have, and we're currently tied."

Scott can tell exactly where he's going with this before he says it outright. He's been the most persistent in trying to change his mind; something that's surprised Scott if he's honest considering he's used to Jackson just ignoring anything he says and doing whatever pleases him. He gets the feeling he's close to doing that now. 

"We can't," Scott tells him firmly, but understanding, shaking his head gently. "It's too much of a risk. If we use our powers, someone will notice."

"And you don't think anyone noticed them using theirs?" Jackson counters, his exasperation growing. "I'm only talking about maybe a little bit of extra speed, maybe a bit of heightened strength to actually knock those showoffs down for more than two seconds."

"We can't risk it," Scott repeats, looking him in the eyes.

There's a missed beat of silence around them as Jackson holds his stare. Then he's clenching his jaw and looking away, rolling his eyes. There's no argument though. Even Jackson can feel the pull of the full moon, and Scott knows it.

He will admit, when he glances over at the Salvatore's team and catches that smug look still settled on the captain's face, he's tempted to change his mind. Of course, he simply shakes it off.

Satisfied that they're on the same page for now, he breaks away from the rest of the team to get a drink, Stiles and Kira following to get one of their own.

As he grabs one of the bottles, his eyes drift across the field, and a worry sticks in the front of his mind. Brett wasn't exactly gentle on Liam during their first match, and that was with him not knowing Liam was a werewolf. 

"Hey, you two be careful, okay?" he says, looking at them. "We don't exactly know what we're up against, and if they really are supernatural, then... just try and stay out of their way. I don't want either of you getting hurt."

Kira nods, the same thought obviously having crossed her mind as well, her eyes darting over to them. 

Stiles sucks in a breath and gives a half-roll of his head. "If we can survive everything that's happened in the last three years, I think we can handle one lacrosse game. We've been through worse than whatever they are."

Scott just stares at him for a moment because he's right. They've been through worse, and yet the thought of either of them getting hurt tonight still makes his stomach clench and tie itself in knots.

"Just be careful," he says again, his eyes sliding over to Kira as well as he does. "It's still a full moon, and I don't want to see anything happen to either of you. Or anyone."

Stiles half-rolls his eyes, but Scott can sense the understanding underneath it. 

"Hey, don't worry about us, alright?" he says, despite obviously knowing that's probably all Scott's going to be doing now.

He nudges his shoulder with his own, sending him what he thinks is supposed to a reassuring smile.

"We'll be fine. Just focus on being all captain-y. And maybe bench Jackson, I don't trust him not to be his usual idiot-self."

"You don't think he'd actually try something, do you?" Kira asks, glancing back at Jackson. The uncertainty and concern in her voice says she's already got her answer. "What do we do? Do we stop him?"

Scott looks over at him, biting his lip as he thinks it over. He knows Jackson, knows how he thinks. The chances of any of this ending well are slowly decreasing, and it's not doing anything to ease his concerns.

"I'll make sure he doesn't do anything," he says, and turns his attention back on the two of them. "You two just worry about yourselves, and keep an eye on the others. Nolan and Corey are easy targets since they're vulnerable, just like the rest of the team. We need to make sure they don't get caught in whatever's going to happen."

"So you think something is going to happen?" Stiles asks, nodding as if he had been expecting it.

"I don't know," Scott answers truthfully. "But we're gonna find out."

His eyes drift back to Jackson; he's now watching something across the field, a sort of smug look on his face. Scott follows his eye-line to the Salvatore's team.

They're mostly just preparing for the game to start again by the looks of it. Then he notices the captain off to the side, along with number thirty-one — the confirmed werewolf — and thirteen — the blonde girl from before whose father apparently owns the school.

He focuses his hearing the slightest bit, tuning in to the sound of their arguing. 

 _"—can't do that!"_ the girl hisses at the both of them. _"Do you want this entire town to know what we are? Because, keep going, you're doing a great job. You—"_ she jabs a finger at thirty-one, his expression already one of regret, _"—nearly took their captain's shoulder out! You're lucky he isn't in a hospital right now with how hard you hit him."_

 _"Lizzie, he's one of us,"_ the guy quickly says, eyes wide. _"He's like me. A werewolf."_

 _"Wait, what?"_ the captain says, his eyebrows drawing together.

The girl — Lizzie — stops. She just stares at him for a few seconds, then her head's turning. Scott quickly drops his stare, pretending he's busy with uncapping the bottle in his hands. It's pointless, he knows, considering what was just said, but instinctive. 

He chances a glance back up at the right moment, watching her quickly turn her attention back on her teammates. 

 _"He's a werewolf?"_ she questions, her words slow. He catches the edge underneath it, almost worried. 

The guy sighs, but nods. _"Yeah. And he knows that I am as well."_

 _"You told him?"_ the captain asks incredulously. 

 _"Relax, Kaleb."_ Lizzie rolls her eyes at him. _"If he's one as well then it's fine. It's not like he's going to go running to the sheriff and cry wolf, is he? It's — wait, no, that's not my point! You two are still being too reckless!"_

Scott tunes out as the captain — or Kaleb — starts to argue. Something along the lines of how they're just having some fun. Though neither Lizzie nor the other guy seems to be quick to agree with him. 

Scott just can't help but wonder about their choice of words. He knows that the guy he talked to is a werewolf, but by the sounds of it, the other two aren't. They're something though.

The question is what exactly and is it going to be the new thing that they have to worry about.

Trying to push that thought back for now, Scott just focuses on how they're going to win the game. It's easier than the alternative, but that doesn't stop him from picking up on the senses all around him.

Nearly half of the team are radiating the same icy tingling, similar to getting pins and needles but on every inch of his skin and somewhat gentler. It's no wonder they're worried; he definitely is as well, now more than ever. He's just hoping that the rest of the game will fly past without any problems. From either team. 

He spends the rest of their break with Stiles and Kira, and Lydia when she comes down from the stands to make sure everything's okay. It's a nice five-minute break from the match and the thought of what's going to happen once they're back on the field. 

Then the whistle blows to signal it's over. Scott assures himself it's going to be alright. So far it's just been them using their abilities to get the ball or make a better shot.

If that's the extent of what they're going to do tonight, he's not worried. 

* * *

 

By the halfway point in the game, Beacon Hills are in the lead. It's mostly due to Jackson doing exactly what he was expecting him to do and using his own super speed to stop the Salvatore's from stealing the ball and making at least four perfect goals. There's even a point when one of them try to body check Liam, only to be the one landing on the ground.

Scott doesn't think that's a coincidence, but considering the guy got back up perfectly fine, he's not too bothered. As long as no one gets hurt, or sees glowing eyes, fangs, or claws, using their own advantages against the Salvatore's ones isn't the worst thing. 

That's what he's been telling himself.

He launches the ball out of his own net and into the goal, flying right past the goalie before they can even react. The scoreboard changes, now eleven points in the lead, and his teammates cheer and whoop as they move over to him. 

Stiles claps him on the back while Kira high-fives him, both having had a part to play in his getting the ball. The rest of what they say gets mixed in with the cheers of the crowd and the rest of the team congratulating him, but their proud grins are enough. He starts to grin right back as he glances between them.

His eyes land on something else instead. 

Kaleb's leaned in close yet again, one of the same guys from before huddled with him. It's only the two of them this time.

Scott wants to think nothing of it. He tries to, shifting his eyes away from them and back to his teammates. They're already planning the celebration party for after, so confident that they're going to win at this point.

Then he catches the words "vulnerable" and "human" and he can't bring himself not to listen in.

 _"—you sure?"_ Jed asks, but there doesn't seem to be any uncertainty to his voice. _"The twins will kill us if we do. And Raf definitely won't like it."_

Kaleb laughs that off. _"We can handle them. Are you in or not?"_

 _"I'm in,"_ Jed says without missing a beat. _"But, which one? We know the captain's a wolf, and I'm pretty sure thirty-seven is as well."_

_"What about the smaller one?"_

_"No, I think he might be a wolf, too. He's too angry."_

Jed pauses, and Scott thinks he's glancing over in their direction, feeling his eyes land on him for just a second.

_"I think that either twenty-four or six is our best option. I'm not getting anything from them like with the others."_

Scott's stomach flips, his heart jumping into his throat. 

 _"Six will be easier to get to,"_ Kaleb decides. _"Twenty-four seems to be surrounded by them."_

_"Goalie it is then."_

They drop it at that, quickly rejoining the rest of their team. Scott's chest tightens as his eyes go to Danny. He's in the process of adjusting one of the strings of his net, having come loose with the force of the Salvatore's last failed shot. 

Scott's being dragged along with the rest of his teammates to continue the match. He's suddenly all too aware of the ticking of the timer on the scoreboard, counting down each second. It drives an urgency into him, that feeling as if he's running out of time making its presence known. 

Seconds before the whistle blows, Scott manages to get Jackson's and Stiles' attention, the only two close enough to not make it suspicious to the other team.

"They're going after Danny," he tells them urgently.

Stiles' eyes widen, darting over in Danny's direction.

Jackson's expression shifts, quickly becoming that blank look of hidden anger that makes his jaw clench and the vein in his neck a little more pronounced. His hands tighten on his stick, and then the whistle's blowing and they're being sucked back into the match. 

The first few seconds are a blur.

Scott grabs the ball before Kaleb even has a chance. He dodges past him with ease, as well as the girl who comes running right at him. If he lets a part of the wolf come out to play for just a few minutes, who's to know? The thought of Danny getting hurts overshadows his worries about his own self-control. 

He darts to his left, avoiding the body check that the Salvatore's thirteen was about to hit him with. As he glances around for the closest open teammate, he checks over his shoulder to make sure Kaleb's still within sight.

Satisfied that he's as far away from Danny as he can possibly get him, Scott pauses for barely a second. He then throws the ball to Isaac right before narrowly missing being knocked to the ground by Kaleb. Isaac catches the ball and is already on the move.

Kaleb throws a glare in Scott's direction, but he can't bring himself to respond with anything other than a twitch of the corners of his lips. 

Three things happen within the space of the next five seconds.

Isaac makes the shot and the crowd cheers. The noise covers the scream that pierces right through Scott and he goes still, his heart nearly doing the same. He whips around, eyes widening, and his heart now threatening to break a few ribs.

It takes him all of two seconds to figure out that the scream came from Liam, who's over by the goals and on the ground, propped up against the pole behind him. Danny's right next to him, visibly panicked, and Jed is lying completely still not that far away from them with Jackson too close to be a coincidence. 

Even from a distance, Scott can see the blood on Danny's head, and he's pretty sure that Liam's leg isn't supposed to be twisted at that angle. Or have one of the bones sticking out of it.

The cheers in the crowd stop as everyone slowly realizes what's going on. Scott, along with a majority of the people on the field with him, drops everything and rushes over to them. 

He drops to his knees beside Liam and Danny the second he reaches them. 

"I — I don't know what happened," Danny says, his words fast as he gestures at Liam, obviously wanting to do something but not knowing what won't make it worse. "That guy just appeared out of nowhere, and Liam — he just..."

"I'm fine," Liam says, looking up at Scott as he does.

He believes him.

Scott's eyes move back to Danny, who seems to be in slight disbelief but not as much as would be expected considering.

He does a quick sweep of him for any seriously concerning injuries, but as far as he can tell, there's only the spot of blood on his forehead. By the looks of it, Jed just managed to get him with the end of his stick before Liam intervened. 

"Are they okay?" Kira asks, now standing just behind him along with about half of their team and the Salvatore's. 

Scott pauses, glancing between them. He can't afford to say too much, not with the other team so close.

He nods, exhaling. "Yeah, they just need a few minutes."

He's already in the process of hooking one of Liam's arms around his shoulders. Danny quickly catches on and does the same.

They lift him to his feet and start pulling him along in the direction of the benches. Coach is already waiting for them, phone in hand as he moves to meet them. 

"What the hell happened out there?" he asks, eyeing the three of them as Scott and Danny lower Liam onto the bench. 

Scott shakes his head when his eyes land on him. "I don't know, Coach, they... I didn't see."

"Well, there's an ambulance on the way." He looks at Liam, then down to his leg only to seem to immediately regret that as he makes a face. "Don't... don't move, alright, Dunbar? Just stay there until it gets here."

He quickly moves away again and Liam grabs Scott's arm, a panicked look crossing his face. 

"Scott, what am I supposed to do?"

"Don't worry," Scott says, "just, uh..."

His eyes dart to Danny, showing no signs of leaving until Liam's being taken away in an ambulance. Their eyes meet for a split second and Scott decides that now's probably a good time to trust Jackson on the whole _Danny knows, we can trust him,_ thing.

Turning his attention back to Liam, he sighs, and says, "This is gonna hurt."

"It always does," Liam mutters, almost bitter-sounding.

Scott drops back to his knees, his hands moving to Liam's leg. For as long as the bone's sticking out, there's no way it can heal. They definitely learned that from the last time they tried to play against other werewolves.

Brett would have been a welcome opponent compared to this school. 

He pauses for just a second, his eyes flicking back up to Liam's face as if to silently warn him. Liam just nods, and Scott takes that as his signal. There's a nauseating pop as Scott pushes the bone back into place and Liam groans through clenched teeth. 

The healing process quickly starts up all on its own. Within a few seconds, Liam's leg is untwisted and there's no sign he was even injured in the first place.

He moves to stand but Scott and Danny both quickly hold him in place. 

"You can't, Coach saw your leg," Scott explains. 

"I think he's gonna notice that it's magically healed itself anyway," Liam counters. 

Scott hesitates, throwing a glance over his shoulder in Coach's direction. He's now on the field, his back turned to them as he seems to argue with the Salvatore's coach. He can't exactly disagree; it won't be the first time one of them have gotten hurt then healed before they can even call an ambulance. Coach is probably used to it by now. 

Still, Liam obliges and stays seated as Scott looks at Danny. His eyes dart back up to the blood on his head. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, his eyebrows raising slightly. "You might have a concussion."

Danny reaches up to gingerly touch the wound and winces. It's at least reassuring to see that it isn't bleeding that badly. If anything, it appears to have stopped already. 

"I'm okay," he says, and even offers him a small smile of assurance.

Scott's eyebrows raise a little further and he rolls his eyes. 

"He barely hit me," he adds. "Liam took most of the hit. There's still only one of you in front of me, okay? I can see clearly and my head doesn't hurt. At least not that bad. I'll be fine."

Scott lets it drop, taking his word for it. The sound of arguing only gets louder and he glances over his shoulder again, back at the field. He spots Stiles quickly approaching them and gets to his feet, moving to meet him halfway. 

"What's going on?"

Stiles shakes his head, his hands flying into the air as he half-turns to gesture back at where Coach is standing with Jackson, surrounded by yellow jerseys. 

"The guy on the ground — number twenty-six?" Stiles sucks in a breath, giving a half-roll of his head. "He can't move. Their coach seems to think that Jackson hit him hard enough to damage some sort of nerve or his spine or something." 

Scott's eyes widen, darting over to them. Stiles rests a hand on his arm, leaning in close as he lowers his voice and pulls his attention back to him. 

"Scott, when one of them tried to lift him up, I saw a scratch on the back of his neck," he says, emphasizing his words. He gives a slight shake of his head. "Jackson definitely paralyzed him, just—"

"With Kanima venom," Scott finishes for him, the realization sinking in for him a good few seconds ago.

Telling Jackson they were planning on going after Danny may not have been the best idea. He'd happily throw out every rule if it meant protecting him, and they all know it.

"Can you stay with Liam and Danny?" he asks, looking at Stiles. 

He nods right away and Scott sends him one back in thanks before he quickly moves away and heads for Jackson.

Coach doesn't even glance at him, thankfully, giving him the chance to grab Jackson's arm and pull him off to the side. A few of the Salvatore's players shoot him unreadable looks but he brushes them off, slipping past them. 

"What did you do?" he whispers as soon as he deems it safe. "I told you not to hurt anyone."

"He was going after Danny," Jackson says as if that's all the explanation he needs. He then rolls his eyes, gesturing over at Jed when Scott just stares at him like he's gone insane. "It was just a scratch. He'll be fine, and it'll look like temporary damage to a couple of nerves. Relax, McCall."

"That would be a lot easier to do if you just listened to me," Scott counters, only a touch of anger lingering in his voice.

Jackson's eyes narrow and he waves a hand over at the benches now. "If I didn't do something, that little beta of yours could have ended up with more than a broken leg, and Danny could be unconscious in the back of an ambulance right now. I was doing what I had to."

Scott sighs, his shoulder dropping. He nods slowly and says, "I know. I just wish it didn't come to this."

Jackson gives a half-scoff that Scott knows means that it was obvious there was no other way this could have ended. Still, it's never hurt him to have hope that for once, things didn't have to end with someone getting hurt. Even if they do have the supernatural ability to heal.

"I'm sorry," Salvatore's coach says, his voice now catching Scott's and Jackson's attention as he stares at Coach with narrowed eyes. "You actually think we're going to finish the game tonight? Two of your own players just got taken out, including your goal, and one of mine is being sent to a hospital because he can't move."

"Oh, we're finishing the game," Coach says, huffing out a slightly disbelieving laugh. "It's the Championship, you think you can just, what? Reschedule?" 

"Actually, yes," Salvatore's coach says, his tone saying that should have been obvious, his arms crossed over his chest. "The safety of these kids comes before winning some game. Championship or not."

Coach is now the one staring at him like he's grown two heads.

"How dare you imply that I don't care about these kids. That's why we're finishing the game. For them!" He points vaguely in their direction. "I've been — they've... been working hard for this all year. They deserve this win."

Scott's eyebrows go up and he glances at Jackson, met with the same mildly confused look. Both of them seem to be thinking the same thing, but that they should just play along. With Coach, that's usually the best option.

"We can reschedule the match for in a week or so," Salvatore's coach tries to argue. "I just don't think it's a good idea to keep playing when—"

"Dr Saltzman," one of the players cuts him off, wide-eyed but nodding. "Let us finish the match. There's no point in rescheduling the entire thing when we're this close to finishing it. Right?"

Their coach — Saltzman — seems to want to argue with him as well, his mouth opening. He hesitates, looking at the rest of the team who mostly seem to be in agreement. Worry and doubt cross his face and he glances over at Scott and Jackson, then to the rest of Beacon Hills' team.

If Scott didn't know any better, he would say that he seems more worried about what his own team are going to do rather than what might happen to them. 

He then sighs, closing his eyes for a brief moment. He nods, hanging his head. 

"Alright, we'll finish the match."

"Yes!" Coach says, voice triumphant, shaking a fist. "Okay, the ambulance should be here any second. Then we can finish this thing and win us a championship."

He walks away and Salztman shakes his head, half-rolling his eyes. A few of his own team move to get ready to finish the game while Scott sucks in a breath. Hopefully they can't do any more damage within the space of five minutes. 

"Uh, Kaleb," Dr Saltzman says, and Scott pauses while Jackson moves away to head over to Danny. "You're on the bench. You too, Rafael. Tell Landon and Penelope they're in for the last five minutes."

"What?" Kaleb tries to protest, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Dr Saltzman, you can't—"

"Actually, I can," he cuts him off. He nods his head towards the rest of their team on the other side of the field. "Go. And once we're home, we'll talk about how you've chosen to disobey the rules of this school. Again."

Kaleb stays right where is and Scott watches warily, uncertain of what he might do. Nothing happens. He stares him down, then breaks when one of the guys he was talking to earlier rests a hand on his arm and asks him to come with him. 

He goes to turn and walk away when he looks right over at Scott. Their eyes meet, but Scott's unwavering.

Honestly, he's a little relieved that he isn't going to be on the field. It must show on his face because Kaleb glares at him, shaking his head. He shakes his friend off of him and walks away on his own. 

Scott breathes out, a half-sigh of relief and a touch of tiredness. He knew a lacrosse match this big on the night of a full moon was going to be hard, but this isn't exactly what he had in mind. It's definitely tiring. 

He turns and moves back over to join his own team. Even Mason, Lydia, Allison, and Malia have joined them from the stands. Scott spots his mom checking on Danny and smiles a little before taking a seat on the bench.

He's greeted with a gentle nudge to his shoulder from Stiles, accompanied by a smile before he's pulled into the conversation they're currently having about the Salvatore Boarding School and just what the hell is going on with its students. A joke about Hogwarts is made from more than one of them, unsurprisingly.

It doesn't take long before the ambulance shows up and Jed's taken away in it. Scott catches their coach saying something about having him transferred over to Mystic Falls Hospital.

Then they're getting back on the field to finish this game. It's safe to say that things are less violent and brutal, and even though Beacon Hills were already in the lead by about fifteen points, it's still a shock when they come out the winners.

It isn't surprising, however, that the blonde girl who had told Kaleb off declares a rematch because they obviously have an unfair advantage with Jed being sent off to the hospital and two of their best players benched.

No one really buys it as a good enough reason to do all of this all over again on a different day. Especially not the both of their coaches.

Beacon Hills are declared the winners, and the Salvatore Boarding School's students pack up to leave.

Scott stands with Lydia, Stiles, and Isaac, watching them one by one get onto their bus. At least two of them throw a glare in their direction on the way. 

"Did they say Mystic Falls back there?" Stiles questions now, his eyes narrowed. 

"Yeah, they did," Isaac confirms, nodding. "They're literally the next town over, right? We practically share the preserve with their woods."

"What are the chances of them having this many supernaturals as well being a coincidence?" Scott asks warily. Hopeful.

"In the same place, that just so happens to be a _private boarding school_ , and knowing our history with this sort of thing?" Lydia sighs, her head tilting. "Zero."

Scott sighs as well, because he had already guessed that. He had just been hoping someone would tell him he was wrong. 

He turns to look at her, then around at the rest of them. "Anyone up for helping me look into their school?"

"Absolutely," Stiles says without missing a beat, already slinging an arm over his shoulder. 

Lydia and Isaac both nod, giving responses of agreement as well. They watch the last of the yellow jerseys disappear onto the bus that has the words "Go, Salvatore Stallions!" painted on the side.

It really is their luck that they would somehow find what could be their next supernatural problem, on a full moon, and the night of the championship game. It's like Beacon Hills really is cursed.


End file.
